


Belief ~ A Tronnor AU

by itstronnorbaby



Category: Connor Franta - Fandom, tronnor - Fandom, troye sivan - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Gay, M/M, Nazi, WW2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstronnorbaby/pseuds/itstronnorbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate-universe Tronnor fan-fiction set in Nazi Germany during the Second World War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing Home (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first-ever fan-fiction, and yes, it is a Tronnor fan-fiction. I hope you all like it. I was afraid to post this story, because I felt like it might be too controversial or that it might offend someone, but I decided to give it a shot.
> 
> If you are offended or have any problems with my story, please please please comment and tell me, because I might not realize it until you tell me. Also, if you spot any grammar errors, I'd really appreciate it if you told me. English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance. 
> 
> Also, this is just the draft, so I might edit posted chapters frequently. I will tell you if I make any drastic changes, but hopefully that won't happen. 
> 
> Anyway, happy reading! 
> 
> Also, last point that I wanted to mention, I might be asking for advice on how you want the story to go sometimes, so if you want to input your ideas, feel free to comment them! (I might change it up though, because I don't want you to expect anything!)
> 
> BTW, This story is also on Wattpad, with the same name.  
> If you want to follow me (Please do!):  
> Tumblr: itstronnorbaby

T R O Y E

Troye couldn't sleep that night.

He tried though, but when sleep just wouldn't come after the first three hours of trying, he gave up.

Now he was lying on his makeshift bed, the basement filled with the sound of quiet snores coming from his family.

Troye closed his eyes and continued to listen.

He could also hear the raindrops as they hit the window upstairs. The pitter-patter followed by the occasional crash of thunder would have been soothing; he had always liked the storm season. However, today, it filled him with bitter nostalgia.

He missed home. He missed his friends. He missed everything. He even missed the town drunks that would stumble home nightly, arguing and shouting profanities until the crack of dawn, when they would suddenly disappear into the sunrise. He even missed his school; where the teachers taught with such an air of nonchalance, unbothered by the empty seats and the slipping grades. He even almost missed Yachna, his crusty old neighbor who held a grudge against him ever since he unintentionally broke her bedroom window when he was twelve while fooling around with his friends.

A stab of pain traveled all the way up from the pit of Troye's stomach until it reached his heart, and remained nestled there.

Yachna

He had told himself not to think about her. To not think about what had happened just a few hours ago. But the more and more he tried to avoid it, the more he remembered.

He remembered the rumors that had first started a couple of months ago. The Germans have a new leader, the unknown voices whispered. And he hates the Jews.

He remembered the first time he heard of the captures. That was just over a month ago.

Then, the camps, and the deaths, and then day by day, the rumors moved closer to home, spreading like an infection, spreading from Germany to its neighboring countries, to where he lived. To Poland.

Then he remembered yesterday. Yesterday had left a gash so deep in his brain that he didn't think it would ever heal. And now the memories were back, and so was the pain.


	2. Missing Home (Part 2)

The memories washed over him like a tidal wave. Troye tried to hold them back, to push them to the back of his head, but he knew it was too late.

~

He was about to leave school for the day when Troye saw the men in black uniforms. He knew who they were even without seeing their arm-patches, which were red, white and black in contrast to the yellow patches his kind were required to wear.

He didn't go home with his friends. Instead, he took the shortcut, which was away from the main-street, with one hand holding his sister's hand, and the other, his brother's. While his siblings were confused, Troye knew what exactly was happening, so when they reached home, he wasn't surprised to see that his parents and older brother had already started packing.

'What's going on?' Sage, his sister, questioned their parents.

Troye's parents stood and stared at the trio. Troye could see the thick coat of worry that was painted on their faces. There wasn't enough time to stand around and explain everything.

"Listen, Sage, Tyde. You have to listen to me. We have to go. We aren't safe here." Troye said in the calmest voice he could muster, even though fear was beginning to well in the pit of his stomach.

They understood and, even though Troye could see the million unanswered questions that were swimming in their brains, they went and helped the family get ready to leave.

A few minutes later, everyone was ready. While most of their belongings remained in their original locations at home, every one of them had packed a bag each with their most prized possessions, some clothing and some daily necessities.

They left through the back door. Their uncle's truck was waiting for them outside. Troye knew that his parents had planned out everything. Troye had heard their whisperings in the middle of the night, when they thought everyone was asleep. He was aware of his uncle's visits. They had known for a while that this day would eventually come, and here it was.

Everyone piled onto the vehicle. It was a tight-fit, but at least everyone was on.

And that's when Troye remembered what he had forgotten.

His journal.

He had to admit that his journal wasn't much: Just a couple hundred pieces of parchment bound together by string and enveloped by a green leather cover. However, its abstract value was far greater than anything else he owned.

As much as he tried to tell himself that an old notebook wasn't worth risking his life for, he couldn't forget all the sleepless nights he had spent working on it. All the nights he would sit by the windowsill in his room, watching his neighborhood, and simply writing. All the poems and songs he had written, words that he had poured his heart into. They were priceless, and he couldn't just forget all about them.

So he got up and jumped off the truck. Despite the protests from his family, he ran back to his house. He climbed up the stairs two steps at a time, and flung open the door to his room.

There, at its usual location beside the window, it sat.

Troye grabbed his beloved journal and the pencil that lay right next to it. He was about to turn around and leave, but then, he saw the men in the black uniforms outside his window again.

They, a group of 6 men, were approaching Yachna's house. He normally wouldn't have cared, but he felt a tinge of guilt bubbling in his chest. Yachna was a Jew too, but unlike him, she didn't have a family. She didn't have anyone.

One of the men knocked roughly on her door, and continued to knock louder and louder until she finally opened it.

Troye could see her confusion even though she was surrounded by the men, almost completely concealed from his sight. Troye could see the menacing looks on their faces as they grabbed her by the hair. Troye could hear her protests and the louder and more desperate they got, the angrier and more violent the men became.

Troye closed his eyes. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to face the pain-staking reality of what the men would do to her. Of what the men had done to so many more before her.

So he picked up his journal, and ran back downstairs. He didn't stop running until he reached his uncle's truck.

And even when his legs stopped, Troye knew that it would be a while before the memory of what had happened would stop running through his head.

~

It was a while, but it eventually did stop.

However, now it was back, the memories flashing in his head in a rotation. Troye felt Yachna's fear and confusion. Troye felt her pain and heard her screams.

Troye covered his ears, and shut his eyes tightly, but he knew that it wouldn't help. Tears rained down his face, the guilt over-flowing from his chest. He had left her there, all alone and afraid. Because he had been afraid for that split second, she was now probably dead.

He clutched his knees to his chest, begging for sleep to overcome him, to take away the memories and emotions that were slowly eating away at him, threatening to swallow him whole.


	3. Leaving Forever

C O N N O R

‘You will take care of yourself, won't you?' 

'Yes ma, I will.' Connor said as he embraced the petite woman in front of him. Her eyes were filled with worry and tears, and the more she tried to keep them hidden from him, the more Connor yearned to stay.

However, he didn’t have a choice in that matter. Connor looked at the two black duffel bags that were lying on the floor next to him. In just those two cloth sacks, Connor had managed to fit his entire life. It had been a struggle of course, as Connor was so attached to every single possession he owned, but after much deliberation and mind changes, he had managed to only pack the necessities, plus a few small mementos from his friends and family.

Connor smiled as he thought about one particular item that he had to bring with him: His new camera, which was given to him as his 21st birthday present by his parents. It had costed a fortune, but it was worth every cent. 

“Please don’t go.” 

His happy train of thoughts was interrupted by a shaky voice that was emerging from behind the door of his home, sucking him back into the morbid reality.

Wiping the tears that had left wet patches all over her cheeks, Nicola walked out towards the front lawn of their home, where Connor had been standing. Connor’s heart fell as she walked closer and closer. They had promised each other the day before that they both wouldn’t cry, but as Connor saw his normally cool-headed and composed elder sister snivel, sob and struggle to keep her feelings in check, Connor could feel the wall that he had built around his emotions during the last couple of days slowly collapse on top of him.

“You better not cry too!” His sister scolded him, as tears continued to flow down her cheeks.

Connor wrapped his arms around her tightly. He was going to miss her so much. He was going to miss all the late-night chats they had on the roof-top when they both had trouble sleeping. He was going to miss their inside jokes that nobody besides them ever understood. He was going to miss their arguing too. He absolutely hated it when they fought, but he would rather fight with her every day for the rest of their lives if it meant that he didn’t have to leave her. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Connie.” She said so softly that Connor almost didn’t hear her. 

Connor bit his lips to prevent another lie from escaping his mouth instinctively. Another ' I'll be okay' ' or another ‘I’ll see you again’, because the truth was that he probably wouldn't be okay. The truth was that he may never see his family again. The truth was that he might end up just like his brother. 

Just like his Dustin.

His older brother’s name had become a sort of taboo in their home ever since they received the letter. A thin piece of parchment folded neatly into a white envelope with an official stamp. No one wanted to talk about what had happened. No one wanted to talk about how his brother had gone to war 6 months ago, and now he was never coming back. 

Missing in action

Those three words translated to something far more permanent in their minds. They knew the truth, as unappealing as it was. 

The only time the family had “discussed” it was the week after the cursed letter had arrived. Their father, who was devout Nazi, claimed his son’s sacrifice was for the greater good, but Connor couldn’t see the greater good. He couldn’t see anything worth losing his big brother for. 

His mother shared the same views as Connor, but kept silent. She kept silent even when another letter arrived exactly 2 months ago. 

Another death sentence, but this time, it was for him. 

Connor thought back to the day his brother left. He remembered the smiles on everyone’s faces and the pride they all felt. It seemed like such a grand thing, that their brother was following their father’s footsteps, but now, the pride was replaced by a sickening fear. Except for his father, no one was smiling. No one was proud. 

Connor remembered his little brother and his heart tightened into a knot. Brandon had become more and more silent ever since the incident, but when Connor got his letter, he had stopped talking altogether. It was hard losing one sibling, but now Brandon would lose two.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth. No matter how much he hopelessly hoped that history wouldn’t repeat itself, it was inevitable.

Tears stung in Connor’s eyes for the first time in 6 months, threatening to spill out, but Connor held them back, because he knew that once he started crying, he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Connor dragged himself back into reality, and was shocked to see that his entire family had already gathered to say their final goodbyes. Nicola had even managed to convince Brandon out of his room with much persuasion. 

Behind him, Connor heard the beep of a car horn. The government vehicle had arrived to pick him up.

This was it.

Connor embraced his family for the very last time, said goodbye to every one of them for the very last time, and picked up his bags. 

And right before he got into the car which would take him to his new life, he looked back at his old one for the very last time. 

This was it.


	4. The Noise

T R O Y E

Troye’s eyes flew open when he heard the soft whispers coming from outside the house. He had barely been asleep, slipping in and out of consciousness for the past two hours.

He heard his family peacefully snoring beside him. Unlike him, they had managed to fall asleep. That’s why they weren’t wide awake like he was. That’s why they couldn’t hear what he heard. 

Troye decided to investigate; he couldn’t help it. He had always been the curious type, going out of his way to find out more than he was supposed to know. He was aware that at times like this, it was a dangerous attribute, but the gnawing feeling in his head urged him to go against his instinct to stay put and ignore the whispers, and instead, he slowly got up from his “bed”, and started tiptoeing towards the basement exit, careful not to let the wooden floor beneath him creak under his weight. 

When he reached the door, he placed his ear against its rough wooden surface, hoping to comprehend more of the meaningless murmur, but to no avail. He realized that he needed to leave the basement in order to satiate his curiosity, which he knew was a terrible idea. He was safe in the basement, but outside; he would be putting his entire family in danger.

Troye thought back to a couple of hours ago: After leaving his home with his family, they had driven an hour or so until they had reached an old, two-story house in the middle of the countryside. In the house lived an old man by the name of Mr. Breiner. Troye was surprised when he found out that this tiny, middle-aged Polish man had, without any reluctance, offered to give shelter to his family. Troye didn’t question it, because he knew how lucky they were.

They were extremely lucky, and Troye didn’t want to be the one to stir up any trouble, so he decided: He’d go back, and pretend he hadn’t heard a thing. As much as that bothered him, it was the right thing to do.

However, as soon as he turned around, he realized the voices were getting louder. Not so loud to wake any of his family, but enough for him to realize and hesitate. 

That made him change his mind, and in a split second, his instinct changed. 

I have to go out there. Troye thought to himself. 

So that’s exactly what he did.

~

Getting out of the basement was a struggle. Mr. Breiner had definitely taken a lot of security measures in order to protect them, so it had been difficult for Troye to escape soundlessly. Nevertheless, he was grateful. It was good to know that his family would be safe down there.

Now that he was out, Troye was kneeling down in front of the window, his head popping out just enough for him to see the commotion that was stirring up outside.  
And it was bad. 

Troye couldn’t hear everything, but he could see by the actions and the bits and pieces of the conversation that they were in big trouble.

Mr. Breiner was being questioned by 2 men in black, 2 soldiers. While the conversation may have seemed somewhat mundane and casual to a passerby, the fear in Mr. Breiner’s eyes could not be mistaken for anything less. 

Troye put two and two together pretty quickly, and realized that the soldiers knew about them, that Mr. Breiner was providing refuge to Jews. 

“How many? How many do you have?” One of the soldiers, probably the leader, asked. He had a calm exterior, but the anger that was slowly bubbling in his eyes was evident even from the distance. He was not to be messed with.

“I don’t, I don’t know what you’re t-talking about.” Mr. Breiner replied. His eyes shifted towards the floor, and Troye knew immediately that the men wouldn’t believe him. He was a bad liar.

That’s when everything clicked: They didn’t know. They didn’t know that his entire family was hiding under the house. They didn’t know how many people Mr. Breiner was keeping. They only knew that he was.

“We can make a deal.” The same soldier spoke again, in a soft voice. Troye strained his ears so he wouldn’t miss a word he uttered. 

“We’ll let you off the hook as long as you give us the Jews.” The man promised. 

Troye didn’t believe him, and the strange glint in the man’s eyes confirmed his suspicions. He would kill Mr. Breiner after he gave them Troye and his family, or worse, he would brand him as a traitor and take him to whatever death camp his family would be dragged to. 

However, Troye could see that Mr. Breiner had fallen for it. His face was twisted up, deep in thought, contemplating the offer.

Troye had to act fast if he wanted to save his family. His head ran through every option available, but there weren’t many. He had no time to warn his family, no time to think of a distraction. So he just did what seemed like the only option available.

“Me.” Troye shouted as he stumbled out of the house, almost tripping over a rock as he walked towards the men. 

“He was only giving refuge to me.” Troye slowed down and stopped in front of the men. He ran his fingers through his dark curls. What a bad idea.

The men looked at Mr. Breiner for confirmation, and as a reply, Mr. Breiner nodded his head stiffly.

“Y-yes, only him.” Mr. Breiner said, his voice shaking. Troye would have face-palmed himself, but the fear in his stomach and the drumming of his heart prevented him from moving even a muscle. 

Thankfully, the soldiers didn’t seem notice Mr. Breiner’s terrible lying skills. They were all too occupied with celebrating their success. It was probably the first time they had ever captured a Jew. 

“Okay, you know what to do.” The same soldier said again. At those words, two of his fellow soldiers immediately grabbed Troye’s arms, one on each side, and took him to their idling truck. 

The mixture of the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, the sheer disbelief at his impulsive actions, and the fear for the impending future left Troye dazed. He was forced into the backseat, hands cuffed together. 

What just happened? He thought to himself. What have I gotten myself into?


End file.
